


Human Enough

by poppiess



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Camp camp au, Crime AU, Detective AU, Fluff, M/M, MomGwen, Murderer au, Vampire AU, dadvid, i guess, i'd like to say dadniel too but not really, no smut sorry, platonic gwenvid, serial killer au, slow build danvid, sorry - Freeform, the terrible trio are terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:36:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppiess/pseuds/poppiess
Summary: Some people called him the Butcher. Others preferred the Slasher. But by far the most popular nickname was the Averdale Vampire.David and Gwen are so-called detectives, because in a cut-off city with a corrupt police force and an obscene amount of murders, what else would you want to be?





	1. Prologue

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

It was nice here on the rooftop, just away from the reaching tendrils of pollution. It was quiet.

Up here, he could think. He could think about what he’d done. Exhale, tinge of cold in the air, light breeze. There was no avoiding it - what he did was wrong. He’d sinned, he’d killed. But the God he’d praised and feared before now seemed so… meaningless. A twitch of a smile came to his face and he swung his legs over the side of the building, closing his eyes. Meaningless. There was a traffic jam below, and the sound of horns honking indignantly drifted up to him. It was all so meaningless. He opened his eyes again and craned his head upwards, tracing constellations in the violet night. Meaningless. Beneath him was a city, a hot, humid city filled with nasty yellow streetlights and pacing insomniacs and gangs waiting in the spots of darkness. Meaningless. Above him were the heavens, the galaxies, the sky. 

Below him, a pack of kids chased a scrawny ten year old behind a garbage can, tearing at his hair and hurling racist insults at him.

Below him, a mother reached for a cigarette. She lit it mechanically, took a long drag, and puffed the smoke out with satisfaction. She wiped the hot ashes onto her daughter’s face.

Below him, a once-happy couple screamed and screamed at each other. Their son locked himself in his room and cried his heart out onto his homework.

Below him, gangs lurked and streetlights leaned and insane old men dragged their feet as they limped through a labyrinth of cobbles. Below him, people were beaten and gave beatings. Below him, humans argued and fought, needless wars that didn’t matter because they would all die anyway.

Meaningless.

The world made no sense to him. Living made no sense to him. It didn’t matter anyway, seeing as he was sort of… well, dead.


	2. Chapter 2

“David… David, come on… David. DAVID!”

David jolted awake. His eyelids flew open and sought desperately to focus on the blurry cloud of morning rage currently slapping him around the face with alarming intensity.

“I’m awake… I’m awake! Gwen, you can stop slapping m- OWIE!” The man gave a yelp of pain as he slammed his head on the slanted ceiling over his desk. The living compound of Cup-O-Noodles and spite - also known as Gwen - smacked her head into her hands with a vicious groan. David rubbed his smarting scalp and gave his roommate a beaming smile. “Golly, did I fall asleep on my notes again? I’d better-”

“No time, no time! Couldn’t pay bills. Power shut off. No alarm… we’re late for work!”

_No alarm… sugar snaps!_ David leapt from his desk chair, avoiding the ceiling this time but colliding with Gwen as he made a beeline for the kitchen. His roommate cursed, some crude jumbled phrase along the lines of “Satan’s cock, fuck me into hell!” as she snatched her uniform before following in his footsteps. A foul smell creeping from underneath their makeshift door-curtain alerted the pair to another calamity. 

“For fuck’s sake, I burnt the toast! That’s what I get for trying to make it in a pan… doesn’t it toast quicker if you turn it all the way up? Anyway… coffee?”

“We don’t have time, I’m already five minutes late!” David skidded up the oven, hitting hip on the kitchen counter as he moved the charred bread off the stove, bumping his arm on the useless toaster in the process. David was 6’4 and relentlessly clumsy. The pint-sized apartment was not built for people like him. “Go and get changed, we can always bring an apple to eat on the way or something. Don’t forget the keys!"

“What about you? You’ve got a shift at the bar tonight, remember?” Gwen’s voice came muffled through the wall.

“I’ll put my uniform in my rucksack,” David yelled back, pulled a crumpled white shirt over his head. “I’m leaving now! Have a good day!”

“Will do!” The reply was heavy with sarcasm. David sighed.

“Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to get fired again.”

“Okay. Bye.”

The door slammed shut.

* * *

David was… happy.

Well, that wasn’t saying much. David was always happy! He loved everything and everyone, from the rats in the trash cans behind his apartment to the hornet nest in the hallway that nobody dared to touch. He loved his numerous part time jobs as cashiers and bartenders, he loved his co-workers, he loved his managers. He loved Averdale, the quaintly decrepit city he and Gwen had moved to when they were searching for work. It wasn’t the fresh air of the countryside, and it definitely wasn’t the forest he knew back at home, but it was oddly wonderful in its own special way. And, oh, he loved Gwen too - she could be a pain in the neck sometimes, but once you got past her prickly guard she was the best friend anyone could ever have. Life in Averdale, despite how cut off from the outside world it was, was pretty darn great. Sure, the power was never on for more than two days at a time… okay, and the water was sometimes a little dirty… and he’d been beaten up a couple of times on the way home… but nowhere was perfect, and to David, at least, Averdale was good enough.

Still, there were a few things bugging him, he reflected as he slotted another dirty plate into the dishwasher. The Averdale Police Force, for one.

David and Gwen never intended to become part-time detectives, although the latter did love reading crime novels. In fact, it all started when the double murder of a French couple made the headlines. A murder was no rare feat in Averdale, but this one was different - the victims were found disembowelled, drained of blood and missing their limbs. A second attack in the same style took place two nights later. The third claimed five lives, and still nothing was done. Police tape turned the streets into spider webs, newspapers screamed gruesome headlines at every corner store and the pavement was so full with sinister chalk outlines of mutilated bodies that it looked like some sort of twisted children’s mural - but nothing else was done. There were no arrests, no interrogations, and still the murderer rampaged. By the end of the first month, there had been a dozen murders, with each of the twelve victims found butchered in similar ways. By the end of the second, the number had increased to thirty-three. 

Nobody walked alone at night, not anymore. Everyone had a weapon. Even in the day, the citizens of Averdale were constantly checking over their shoulders for the murderer.

They went by many names. Some called them The Butcher. Others preferred The Slasher. But by far the most popular was the Averdale Vampire. 

David wiped lipstick from the last wineglass before placing it neatly into the dishwasher and leaning his elbows on the grimy kitchen counter. It was nearing midnight and his shift was over soon, thank goodness - although that did mean a fifteen minute walk through dark streets with a murderer on the loose. David stifled a shiver and plastered his signature grin over his face, ruffling his left hand through his hair as his right fought to undo the knotted apron tied around his waist. A walk in the dark was fine. He’d stop off and buy some icecream for Gwen with his shiny new paycheck! Anything by Ben and Jerry was her favourite, but it cost a king’s ransom. That was fine, too - he was sure Gwen wouldn’t mind something off-brand. The fridge wasn’t working again, so they’d eat it all tonight! They’d stay up until the early hours - at least, Gwen would, and he’d fall asleep at half one - and watch chick flicks together on a TV that…worked. Sometimes. Often, he’d have to get up and whack it with a cushion. It was good enough for him! And of course, they’d make notes: on motives, on suspects, predictions for when and where the next murder would happen. Gwen took “making notes” very seriously, and she often got frustrated when her deductions didn’t add up - which they never did. David smiled to himself. They weren’t exactly playing detective, but they weren’t far off, either.

“Bye-bye, Julia! And Micheal! See you on Monday, Sam!” David hung up his apron and stuck his paycheck in his pocket before leaping out the back door. “Bye, Alan,” he continued, fumbling with the door handle and his jacket at the same time. “And Kandis! Goodnight, everyone!” The door clicked shut with a strange finality as David breathed one final bye. 

Hands in pockets, he turned down the cobbled road as the cold began to settle into his bones. The streetlights seemed to be working now, although they left occasional pockets of darkness here and there. David crossed one now, the tip of his nose already icy thanks to the nighttime chill, as he groped his pockets for - aha! - his mobile phone. He flipped it open and dialled Gwen, hugging the plastic case to his ear as the darkness grew in volume and intensity. The ringback tone played… and played… and continued to play. David was beginning to lose hope until he heard a crackle and a groggy voice mumbling something unintelligible. 

“Hello, Gwen!” David chirped. Yes! The faint glow of a working streetlight was coming to view. “Are you home?”

“What? Yeah, I…” there was a sigh and a snuffle from the other end. “Yeah, you woke me up. Turn your voice down, like, five levels, okay?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m on my way home right now.”

“Where are you?” 

“Uhhh, around Northwood Avenue. It’s kind of dark out here. And creepy,” he added with a shiver. “And cold.”

“Want me to meet you at the corner? I was uh, making notes before I went to bed.”

“Keep talking,” he prompted, eager for anything that would take his mind off the next approaching dark spot.

“Well. Okay. So, there’s not really a pattern, right? I mean, the time between the murders. The first two murders were two nights apart. The third one happened five days later. The fourth one happened three days later, then the fifth happened a week after that. A week and a half later, the sixth. No solid pattern, right?”

“Right,” replied David with an affirmative nod his partner would never see. It occurred to him, whenever he walked through these oddly lit streets, that he was a tiny bit scared of the dark.

“Yeah. Okay, all this time, I’ve - sorry, we’ve - been looking for a pattern between the dates, right? There isn’t one. But I’ve noticed that-”

“One second, Gwen,” David lifted his phone away from his ear and stopped walking. _That’s weird,_ he thought to himself nervously. _I thought I heard something. Ha. Ha ha. Very funny, brain, but there’s nothing spooky here with me in this alleyway! Except possibly bats. Or raccoons. Or street gangs. Or-_

“Ahem?!” Gwen remarked loudly.

David smacked his phone to his ear and set off again at a hasty pace. “Sorry! Just… taking a short cut!”

“For fuck’s sake, David, do not take a shortcut. Go by the main road, it’s way safer.”

“Mhm.” David nodded again, chewing his thumbnail. There it was again. 

“Listen, okay, the longest the murderer has gone without killing is two weeks. How long ago was the last murder?”

David kept walking, fighting to keep his mind on the conversation. “About two weeks ago. Gwen, that’s a great deduction, but I’m sure-”

“Listen, David, they’re going to strike tonight. So you need to get your ass home right now.”

“Sure, Gwen, I’m at O’Cleary Road. See? Only ten minutes away! I was going to stop off and get some ice cream, but if you’re really concerned-” his heart was beginning to pound. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, he could make some things out - the faint outlines of houses with windows that leered down at him, crumbling brick walls, rats scuttling in the trash. And every so often, that strange sound, like the rippling of a flag. It was getting closer.

_Just a decorative flag on someone’s house, right?_ “Gwen, don’t laugh at me, but I feel like the main character in one of your murder novels right now. The Alleyway Hunter, to be precise.” It was too quiet. There it was again, the rippling noise - closer, closer, almost right above him now. “I don’t-”

Something dripped onto his forehead.

David froze. His trembling fingers hit the red _hang up_ button as his strides ground to a halt. Slowly, dreadfully, he tilted his head upwards.

There was a silhouette above him on the rooftop.

He ran. And he ran. And, shaking like a leaf, blinded by the hot tears that sprung in his eyes without warning, he ran. As the street names blurred, he ran. As the cobbles blurred and spun beneath him, he ran. And he didn’t stop running, at least, he didn't until he hit a dead end.

Gasping for air, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth, David spun on his heel and leaned against the wall. His heart smacked wildly against his ribcage as he clawed his pockets for his phone.

“Gwen? S-Sorry I hung up… there was… figure on the roof… so, so scared… I’m at a dead end, I think on Holliway? It’s about five minutes away, could you-”

A foul smell and a rasping cough echoing from the darkness stopped him in his tracks.

“See you in a bit okay thanks bye,” he rushed, slamming his finger on the hang up button once again and missing it a few times before he finally ended the call. Still breathing hard, he stayed desperately still.

A streetlight blinked on, and he instantly wished it hadn’t.

David clamped his hands over his mouth, letting a feeble whine escape as he scrambled against the wall, eventually sliding to the floor in shock. Three. There were three, and oh, god, was that a kid? Yes, there in the corner was a child, slumped heavily to the side, blood trickling gently from his mouth. Shit. Shiiiiiit. Was that an intestine looped around his foot? It was, and he traced it to the second corpse, or what was left of it. Almost everything was gone - arms, legs, head, even parts of the torso had been scraped away, leaving a pathetic lump of organs and bones that were almost stripped clean. They lay on top of a neatly folded North Face jacket and a pair of skinny jeans.

His gaze turned to the third body and everything stopped.

His breathing, his thinking, all of time. His hands fell weakly to his sides because oh, God, he knew that Canada Goose parka. He knew those curly brown locks, he knew those misty blue eyes. He knew that body, the one that lay stone-cold and lifeless before him, its blood weaving in and out the rough cobbles. He reached a trembling finger towards his face and touched lightly onto the cheek.

He stood up again and touched his forehead, touched the wet droplet the figure had dripped onto him. His finger came away red.

Everything came together and he wished he’d taken the shortcut instead.


End file.
